Mercy couldn't stop the unattractive snort from forcing its way into the world. She just barely stopped herself from spraying the alcohol she was about to swallow. Not that she knew what kind of alcohol it was, but honestly, who cared?

Okay, yes. She was completely hammered. But it was the good kind of drunk. The one where you go from happy sober to hilarious drunk, she blamed Dean really. He was the one who convinced them to have a family night out at the local bar.

But she had to admit that it hadn't been all that much difficult for him to convince her. Sam was the one that took some convincing. Mr, Killing Your Liver Is Stupid I Have Better Things to Do, finally agreed after hours of childish pestering from both his elder siblings. She was so glad she had, she had never seen Sam drunk before that night, and he had to be the funniest drunk in the world.

She and Dean had somehow managed to get everyone in the bar singing Bohemian Rhapsody, which in turn got Sam to start to sing. He was laughably terrible, worse than her and Dean's drunk singing. That had to tell you something. He was late for every line and was so far from being in tune that he sounded like a howling dog with a sore throat. Don't ask how she knew what that sounded like.

So far she had managed to snog five decent looking men (though that could've been the alcohol) and got very close and personal with three women. She was fairly sure she had also downed a few drinks that weren't hers and were damn strong.

So far she was, loving their family night out.

Not only was it a good activity to get Sam to loosen up, but it let Dean and her to get some much needed sibling bonding. They scammed people out of their money and tried to beat each other at every game that was available in said bar. She was not above sulking when he beat her in everything but darts and 'Who can get the most numbers?'

At that moment in time, the two were stood on the bar belting out the last few lines of Back in Black. Holding onto each other's shoulders with a glass/bottle of something, giant grins splitting their faces in pure fun and joy. The other inhabitants of the bar raised a glass and laughed right along with the out of tune duo.

They were all far too drunk and having way too much fun, but that had been the plan. Mercy couldn't help but feel almost complete stood there, messing around with her brother.

"Hey, Merce, I just had the greatest idea?!" Dean slurred over the music, "How 'bout we play Winchester roulette?!"

Mercy pulled the man's head down to level with a cheeky laugh.

"You, my brother, are a genius!"

Technically it wasn't actually called Winchester Roulette, but they had done it that often that they changed the name just for them; along with a few rules.

The rules were simple; the bartender would make a large selection of different drinks with varying percentages of alcohol and a few of milk or water. The two Winchester's choose a stranger each and have them pick numbers. Each number had a corresponding drink and Mercy and Dean have to drink the number their chosen person picked. Whoever collapsed first loses. Simple really, apart from the fact that the two were tied at that point and the competiveness was a recurring trait in the family.

It was going to be so much fun.

"Six!"

"Three!"

"Twenty!"

"Five!"

"Eight!"

"Sixteen!"

"One,"

It went on and on, a drink going down the hatch as each number was called. Sometimes they got lucky and only had to drink water, other times they had some of the foulest whisky ever created.

Mercy had lost count on how many she had managed to swallow, but she knew they were both reaching their limits. Her head was swimming and her body was uncoordinated, it was only due to sheer will and determination that she was still on her feet.

Silence filled the bar as only two drinks were left, number eleven and number two. The two Winchester's grabbed the drink called by their chosen in sync and stared at each other. It was almost like an old western standoff, just waiting for the right second to move.

Without a single prompt, the siblings chugged the contents of the glasses and slammed them back onto the counter. They continued to stare at each other, daring the other to give up.

Moments passed by and they started to seriously wobble. Mercy could no longer see anything but blurry colours and she felt like her insides were trying to escape via her mouth.

The audience stared in awe as the two created a legend that would continue to be told in that bar for years to come.

The sound of the clock echoed throughout the room.

Tic,

Tic,

Tic,

Tic,

Tic,

Tic,

Toc!

Their eyes rolled back into their heads and they dropped, both unable to hold onto conscience for any longer.

Cheers filled the room in celebration of the creation of the greatest legend.

A week later the trio went hunting for a Rawhead, and Dean ended up in the hospital.

Mercy managed to hold back the tears of joy as she held onto her now healed brother close. The poor middle child looked so confused and dazed but hugged his siblings back.

The people in the tent clapped and cheered for the miracle that had been performed before them. Mercy didn't like it, she didn't believe in faith healers. They were always either fakes or had some sort of other agenda.

As glad as she was for the Reverend to heal her brother, she knew something was up. Dean looked like he was scared of something as he was being healed. No one else could see it, but she knew her brother saw something that could uncover something dark about the whole set up.

"I felt that you have some sort of unfinished business, something far bigger than any of us."

Dean stared at Roy in shock and confusion. Mercy was stood behind her younger brother, equally surprised. Roy was definitely not a psychic. He didn't have the knowledge that psychics did, so they didn't know how he could've known that the Winchester's were planning on killing yellow eyes.

They got out of there as fast as possible after that.

Only to bump into the girl Dean had 'Fallen for' in the tent before he had been healed. Mercy was instantly on edge with the mother's angry expression.

"You didn't deserve to be healed. My Layla has attended every single one of these healings. She should have been the one to be healed, not a non-believer like you!"

The young woman tried to quiet her mother but Dean already had the guilty look on his face. Mercy really wished he didn't have such a self-loathing outlook on life, he always believes that others have more of a right to live than him and it pissed her off.

"Listen lady, it was Roy who chose who to heal. Dean didn't do anything to deserve this sort of crap. I understand you want to save your daughter's life but pushing your frustrations on us isn't going to help anyone." She all but snarled.

Mercy almost laughed out loud at the strangeness of the woman's response. She honest to god humphed at the siblings, the way comedies portrayed snobby rich people with.

"And who are you, his little girlfriend? I wasn't aware he couldn't stand up for himself!"

Mercy and Dean glanced at each other before gagging dramatically. It wasn't the first time someone had mistaken them for a couple, but it was always such a gross thing to think about and it weirded the hell out of them.

"She's my older sister."

With that single sentence, the woman went bright red and hurried on as fast as she could. Layla shot the two an apologetic look as she passed them and followed her mother.

Dean and Mercy looked at each other and burst into chuckles. It was always fun to put people in their place. Sure, they were sympathetic to her situation, but it didn't mean that she could be cruel to everyone.

"You would've thought he'd at least thank us." Mercy called from her place in the Impala. For once she was sat like a normal person, except she had deemed 3:00am the perfect time to clean her guns and sharpen her knives.

"It was a reaper, no one expected him to be grateful." Sam replied without opening his eyes, sleep was eluding him but he was determined to get some form of rest.

Mercy simply hummed in response as she looked over her iron knife with a critical eye. There was a deep scratch just along the sharp edge that wouldn't go away no matter what she did. She might have to switch it out for Sam or Dean's, let them deal with the irritating scratch.

Nah, she already managed to start a fight between them when she did that with the cracked rosary. Holy water was harder to make with a faulty rosary or no rosary. It wasn't like Dean ever actually made said water holy, but wasn't it just her luck that he noticed that one time and blamed it on Sam.

To be honest, she was just glad that it hadn't escalated into a prank war. She could never think up good pranks and always ended right in the war path and ended up even worse than the intended target.

A few more hours passed and the boys switched out so that Dean could get some shut eye. He was quickly lulled into sleep with the familiar rumbling of the engine.

"Mercy, I'm going to ask you something and I need you to answer it properly. None of that normal deflecting bull you pull."

Mercy stared at the back of Sam's head in confusion. Sure, he was the most emotional of the three of them, but she never consciously avoided questions. She guessed he knew her better than she knew herself, which was kind of creepy.

"Go ahead."

"Did Dad hit you when we were kids?" The silence was deafening. Even Dean's snores were quiet under the tense and shocked atmosphere.

It was almost becoming a routine. The two of them managing to ask something that shocks her, and makes things increasingly awkward, it had never happened before Sam had gone to Stanford.

"Why would you ask that?"

Sam didn't answer and just continued driving. A few moments passed torturously slow before she sigh and answered his question.

"No. Dad would never do something like that to any of us."

"Then what were you talking about when Dad hit you?!" Sam snapped his; body tense and ridged.

"Sam, what the hell are you on about?!"

"Dean told me about the fight you two had after I left." He said softly. Realisation settled into her bones like a wave of ice cold water.

There were some things the boys didn't need to know about their father. Dean held to much respect for him to have it broken from a few mistakes and Sam would just let his opinion of John Winchester go further down.

"What did you mean by "old habits never die"?"

"Sam, you need to believe me when I say you do not want to know." Sam's eyes widened in fear,

He had never heard his sister's voice to harsh and cold. He bet that if he had looked in the rear view mirror he would have seen a dark expression on Mercy's face. A chill sped down his spine, as the atmosphere became suffocating.

"But I know you. You won't let up. As much as you hate it, you're just like Dad." She took another deep breath. "He never hit me. He could never hurt any of us. But after Mum died, he became very violent. Anything could set him off and he'd be forced to take us and run or spend the night in a police cell. He almost killed a teenager in front of me; it's the scariest thing I have ever seen. That's what I was talking about. One bad word against him or Mum and there isn't much of a chance of getting out alive."